Gracey Academy
by Athena McGuire
Summary: Comeback, dun, dun, dun. hehe...Any-who, this is about a witches school in Louisana, and doesn't really have any HP characters in it, but the world of magic is there, though. And the plot is unfolding...what will happen next? I dunno, do you? Nope. R/R?
1. Chapter One

Ah, my comeback into ff.net has happened, dun, dun, dun. Any-who, I got my inspiration for this story from my love of Walt Disney, and the Haunted Mansion. In fact, were do you think I got the name Gracey from, none other than the Haunted Mansion. Although, the Gracey Mansion in this story is the one in Disneyland, although I have never been to Disneyland, only to Walt Disney World. So, enjoy, and tell me what you think. Oh, and by the way, there are really no characters from HP in here, only the world of HP, and the magic, so, if you want characters, go read something else, hon. This is about a school in Louisiana. An odd school.

Disclaimer: what is there to disclaim? The HP belongs to JK Rowling, and the WB. And the HM belongs to Walt Disney, and the Disney Company and Family.

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'The update?' I asked Mary, who was looking through an old antique telescope on the second floor veranda of Gracey Academy, and standing next to me.

'Well, Scarlett and Bella are studying under cypress number six, and that senior, Alicey, is next to the garden, but I don't know what she's doing', came Mary's reply, and I sighed. Nothing even remotely interesting ever happened at Gracey Academy, except for the occasional explosion from potions, or visit from a parent.

Gracey Academy is where we went to school. One of the top witches schools in the country, it only accepted a few students a year, and only those up to the challenge. And, there really was a challenge. It housed grades seventh through twelfth, all in the old Louisiana mansion built by none other than George Gracey. All of the teachers, of course, held up Master Gracey with a firm hand, but all of us students think he was just a crazy old lunatic millionaire. The old Gracey Mansion was just that, old, but, I must admit, it was amazingly beautiful, and it held such a New Orleans French Quarter charm to it.  It's four Greek columns in the front face of the building were surrounded by green wrought iron railings and verandas that circled the whole structure. It really was a masterpiece, and I compliment old Gracey on his taste.

Behind me sat Abby and Michelle at a little wrought iron table with four chairs, made to match the railings. Abby looked up from the bird she was watching a little ways down the veranda, and at me. 'I feel your pain,' she said simply. I turned around to her and leaned against the railing, wrinkling my nose in boredom.

Suddenly, Mary shouted, 'Aha!' and I spun around, skirts of my uniform rustling, demanding 'What?! What is it?'

'I spot proof of civilization!' she said cheerily, still looking through the telescope. Abby jumped up from her seat to join us, and Michelle looked up from the notebook she was writing in, no doubt about how bored we could get on a Sunday afternoon.

'Oh! Let me see!' I begged, but Mary kept on talking.

'It's a car! A…what is it? A Rolls Royce! A Rolls Royce at Gracey, I never thought I'd see the day!'

At about this time, Abby cut in, 'Oh my lord! Finally, proof on Earth that there is a salvation at which we have no conscience to, which we have not thought to ponder upon, therefore our heads grow weary from lack of use! Hey, that's catchy, do me a favor Shelly, and write that down, will ya?' she smiled at her well-put words and squinted her eyes against the sunlight that was somewhat faded by the greenery at the car, which was approaching the school gates. Shelly just raised an eyebrow, and shook her head. 

The gates had permitted entrance to the car, which rolled down the long drive to a silent stop at the front of the school.  Mrs. Merewether, our headmistress, came bustling out of the large front door below us to greet it. Looking above and behind her, she saw us and yelled, daintily, 'Girls, do come down and meet our new exchange student!'

'Exchange student? Since when do we have an exchange student?' I asked. Michelle replied, 'Since now, I guess.'

At Mrs. Merewether's bidding, we made our way inside, down the large stairs, and outside again. By then, the headmistress had opened the back door of the Rolls Royce and out had come a girl, of about our age, with dark, dark brown curls, darker than mahogany, and bright blue eyes that could've given Frank Sinatra a run for his money. 

'Ladies,' Mrs. Merewether was saying in her Louisianan accent, 'this is Miss Molly Albertson, from London. Molly, welcome to Gracey Academy, and these students are Felicity, Michelle, Abagale, and Mary Ella. They're in your grade.'

Molly nodded and smiled at each of us. 'Hello.' She said shyly. She had a distinct British accent, and I figured that she must be pretty nervous to be in a whole different country, a whole different continent, a whole different _hemisphere _ from home. I smiled right back at her, as did everyone else. 

Mrs. Merewether began to usher Molly past us into the house, and we followed as she led her to the parlor, where we have assembly every morning and where we gather some nights. Did I forget to mention that there are only ninety students at Gracey, and that would be about fifteen a grade? Yea, we're pretty small, but I like it that way. 

'Abby, Michelle, would you two be dears and help Sam get Molly's bags?' Abby and Michelle nodded and began to leave, but Molly protested, 'Oh, no, don't bother, I'll get them.' But headmistress shooed that possibility away and begged Molly sit, and that she did, and Mary and I along with her. As if on cue, Miss O'Neal, one of our assistant cooks, came out with a platter of little snacks, which looked delicious to me, but Molly didn't eat, and like I said before, I supposed she was too nervous.

While Mrs. Merewether chatted away with our new student, I sized her up. She seemed like a nice person, and I hoped she was, because we got enough, ahem, coldness, out of Bella, when she was 'under the weather', so to speak. After a while, I got sick (with all due respect) of hearing Mrs. Merewether dig information out of Molly, so my eyes drifted up to the portrait of old (and dead) Miss April-December, Master Gracey's relative in some way. All of the students had stories of April-December that they got from their sisters, of mothers, or cousins, or whoever had attended Gracey before them. Legends, to put it right. I supposed most of them were fake. But some of them had to have some truth in them, right? Miss April-December was, to put it simply, beautiful. She had beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, beautiful face structure, beautiful everything. 

But sometimes, at night, when we snuck down for midnight snack when we weren't supposed to, that portrait looked…scary, to be honest. Scary, like April-December knew very well that we were not suppose to be where we were, like she was go to tell on us, and like she was going to get us for breaking the rules. Yep. That was one _peculiar _ picture, all right. Who knew what it really was…

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Ah, I have to say that I was quite proud of that. I've been planning this story for a long time, and I finally have it out. So be a good person and review. And if you want to see the Mansion, go here: http://www.disneyfans.com/photos/DisneylandResort/Disneyland2000/NewOrleansSquare/HauntedMansion/HiRes/101000_098.html  Thank you!


	2. Chapter Two

            Ah! Chapter Two! Accomplishment achieved! But, I have to make an adjustment; I need to change the amount of students in the school to sixty, ten a year. I have to do this to accommodate the story and make it work so much better, so, sorry for the inconvenience. Enjoy and review. By the way, I also got the name April-December from Disney, too.

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            If Miss April-December had a peculiar picture, than Master Gracey was entitled to have a peculiar house. With oddities galore, there wasn't often a dull moment. I know that I told you that it was always boring at Gracey Academy, and it was, but we had our…moments, so to speak. Moments when weird noises, or strange things happened around the house. We usually pretended they didn't happen, because the faculty got too suspicions if we asked to many questions, except in class.

            Often times, when we were walking past the master corridor  (that would be the one with the main bedrooms belonging to the Gracey's themselves; they've kept them the same as they were back then, and we're not allowed to go down it for some reason), we'd slow down, wanting to here something to satisfy our minds. But we would speed up when we saw a flicker of light far down the hall (it was a very, very long hall, by the way). 

            All of the things in the Gracey Mansion were old, too. All of our classrooms, tables, dishes, beds, chairs, books (with a few new ones mixed in, I suppose), pens (how would they last so long, you ask, well, I don't know), everything, except probably the food, thank goodness. But that didn't mean they were out of shape, well most weren't, but there was a chandelier in the octagon room, with all of the paintings of other relatives of the Master's, that was covered in layers of dust. But then, we didn't really go into that room much, either. You would think that the maids would at least live up to the money they were making to clean it, but a junior, Jackie, once told me that they weren't allowed to, but I didn't know if I should believe her or not. 

            If they weren't allowed to clean that chandelier, then they probably weren't allowed to clean a lot of things in the house, looking at the state of things. Dust covered half the volumes in the library, which we didn't care to read, anyway, only for research, it really was. The Endless Hallway (that would be what we nicknamed the master corridor) was layered in dust, as far as we could see. You would wonder how we ever got accredited. Do we get accredited? 

            Anyway, to get down to the point, Gracey Mansion, Gracey Academy was weird. Just plain weird. But hey, isn't oddness the spice of life, or is that variety?

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            On the morning of the fifth of May, Cinco de Mayo, six days after the mysterious Molly had arrived at Gracey, our annual school pictures day preceded. This weren't your average school pictures, in fact, the school had been taking these pictures since the very first year the Gracey Academy had opened, and they still used black-and-white film. The film was also the same kind wizard used a hundred years ago, unmoving.  And we didn't sit on a chair to smile into a camera; we were posed, like we were the imperial family of Russia, or something. These photos were taken once a year, on the same day every year, and every year, each and every student attending Gracey had one taken. The school took these pictures and placed them in a beautifully made frame (yes, one big frame with ten oval shaped sections for the pictures of us), which was then placed along the different hallways, and each graduating year had it's own pictures section. Our's was on the second floor corridor, right in between two thousand three, and two thousand five. We also had a group picture of our class taken every year.

            Mrs. Merewether woke us up early on this sunny Saturday morning, and shuffled us into the parlor, full uniforms and all. Our uniform consists of a regular, nineteenth century dress, and in, not surprisingly, black and white. Same as it was when the school opened. It even had petticoats and three quarter sleeves. And, as a school rule, we weren't allowed to wear our hair down, so, it was, on the bright side, always up.

            Anyway, the photographer started like he always does, with the seventh grade. Then he moved up to eighth grade, and then the freshwoman, and then us. Alphabetically, he started with the new Miss Molly, followed by Mary, then Bella, then Scarlett, then Michelle, then Abby, and finally, me.  But, back to Molly, when she sat down nervously, Geoffrey, the photographer (yes, sadly, we know him by name), said, 'Ooo, a new student! Lovely to meet you Miss--?'

            'Molly Albertson'

            'Well, welcome to Gracey, just sit comfy and look at Bella over there, no, I did that last time, look at Mary, dear, Mary.' Molly turned and smiled at Mary, who smiled back, then asked, 'Should I smile?' 

            'Mmmm, ponder something, look thoughtful, would you?' Molly obeyed, but when Geoffrey tried to set the flash and take the pictures, the old camera just made a tiny, faint buzzing noise. And then, as suddenly as it had come, it stopped. I furrowed my eyebrows a moment, wondering what had happened, just as Geoffrey. He tried again, but the action only repeated itself. By now, everyone had become suspicious at the old thing, and, their heads cocked, they studied it.

            When Geoffrey tried for a third time, the camera finally obeyed, and click and flash it went. He repeated it, in case Molly had blinked, or something like that, and the line started up again. The reluctant camera was soon forgotten, and my turn came along.

            'Ahhh, Miss Lissie, o' are ye? The family?' I had a history with good old Geoff, we were on good terms, even though when I was a seventh grader, I accidentally exposed a role of used film, so he had to take all of those pictures again.

            'I'm wonderful Geoff, and the family as well. What 'bout you?' I replied.

            'Well, same old, same old, Mills been a bit weird lately, but when is she not, eh?' Mill was his wife, Millie. She used to come and help him with the picture taking, but I think we scared her away. 'Now, you look at Bella and think of those old cypress trees outside, will you?' I nodded, and did so.

            Soon, we did the grade picture, and we were allowed to leave. On our way back upstairs, we slowed down at the Endless Hallway, but Molly kept walking. She stopped and looked at us, all of who were looking nonchalantly down the corridor. 

            'What are you doing?'

            'Shh.' Michelle told her, and she looked with us. Everything seemed normal. The old grandfather clock tick-tocked, the scone lamps on the walls flickered (they were candles in that hallway, but no where else), and the old portraits looked as scary as usual. So, we went back on our way.

            'Why did you stop?' Molly asked in her accent.

            'Long story, but you could say it was tradition.' Abby answered her, not exactly answering her question. In fact, there were a lot of things we hadn't told Molly since she had come here, we didn't want to scare her away, because that had happened before, but anyway, when she had come, we adopted her into our little circle. 

            Suddenly, a door slammed from behind us, from the Endless Hallway. That slam brought us running back, to come face to face with…Sam, the groundskeeper.

            'Sam!' (we were friendly with everybody around here), I yelled, 'what were you doing down there?!'

            'Jus' fixin' a shelf that the missus told me to. It had fallen right of its nails.'

            'Mrs. Merewether goes down there?' asked Mary.

            'Only to check up on things, see if it needs repairin'.'

            'Really?' I was fascinated.

            'Yep. Don' like goin' down there either. Scary. Mu-ch to scary. Gives me the jeepers.' He replied.

            'What's it like?' Abby asked.

            'Like I said, scary. And dusty. Makes my allergies act up, but you'd think I was used to that by now, wouldn't you?'

            We pounded him with questions as he went back down stairs, and finally shook us off when he told us that he needed to prune the hedges. But I decided that I'd find out more, and I wouldn't let the subject drop. And, of course, it wouldn't.

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            Thank you! Two chapters in two days, what an accomplishment. And a good thanks to Caity for her review. She's so kind, and my very first reviewer, for this story, at least. Review, all of you, please!


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